Witness
by Izzydurah
Summary: When you witness the wrong things, you do go down. A certain Player Killer learns this lesson twice.


_It's been a long time, but I'm back in action. Since .hack/LIBERTY is well over a year old and everything is on my old computer, I really don't have enough resources to continue it. However, I vaguely remember the backbone of the story, so I decided to revive myself with a short tale about what happened to dear ol' Sora after the main events occurred. I guess this is more or less a warm up to get back into the swing of things. Anyhow, enough rambles. Remember: I disclaim any rights to .hack/SIGN and all its affiliates. They're copyright to whom ever, because I'm just a high school student with too much time. XD_

_

* * *

_

**Witness  
**_a fan fiction by Izzydurah  
__writing copyright 2005_

_Easy, now._

His wistful face looked up, straining for the voice disembodied from his world. Its flowing tones were intertwined with his thoughts, and the force behind such controlling words longed to meet him face to face. Vainly the child reached for the sky, a vast stretch of ink run together flecked with white, those spaces it failed to run on. He brought his hand back down to earth, bleeding freely now, infection setting in on the knife wound. The other had long been rendered useless, and even the left leg had been twisted in the struggle. Now he was to be left there for dead. It was so cliché as if it were only a movie, but he knew it wasn't.

_You shouldn't have told him._

The thin strands of hair fell in his face now, becoming sticky and crimson from a gash on the cheek. Tears and dirt mingled with it, adding to the pain that coiled through his body. His body lay abandoned and warped among the grass, a cool spring breeze blowing through its blades. Very soon he would leave this place, flying once again among souls.

_They say_, he thought in disregard to the last sentence, _that if you die, you can permanently become one with The World. _His strength to speak was gone; any attempt at talking would produce a mouthful of blood and bile.

_Do you wish it?_

_Not exactly. What has it done for me?_

_Everything._

He let these words sink in for just a minute, knowing them to be the truth. It had done everything for him. It was his escape from loneliness and being ignored, his little place, his own. More and more he felt like the boys in the movies, those weakling who had just curled inside dark rooms all day and cried about their sorrows. He wasn't like them, he believed. He had the strength to go on, venting in the video game upon others who had it so much better. They acted this way, too, which made him grow even more malevolent toward people. Finally, he believed himself to be a misanthrope, knowing that his fellow man was indeed inferior and ignorant. That's all he needed to know.

Now his world fell back on itself, encompassing him in these last few moments not with the fear and worry he lived through in his short life, but just peace. Dying seemed to bring peace, and incredible urge to sleep.

He felt like yawning and almost did so, then immediately regretted it by choking on the build-up in his throat. Weakly, Sora tossed his head to spit it up, draining his strength drastically in this one motion. The topic came to mind, making his insides churn heatedly.

Crim should be in this situation. HE should be the one to go through this! I… I tried to not even get INTO this mess!

_Your time is coming very soon. Hush, child. Wait. Easy now,_ the voice repeated again.

He decided not to waste his time. At the same moment, whatever it was to take him away from earthly confines agreed with him. The warm sensation flowed through his body, not numbing but amplifying the pain. His eyes refused to close, though it wouldn't be entirely necessary; the world was rapidly fading away as he became blind. Limbs would not move as paralysis set in; eventually, Sora became just a shell of anguish, everything stripped but his gradually deteriorating mind and feelings.

_Let us go._

_

* * *

_Sora sat by the window now, looking up into the pale morning sky. The sun had just barely risen from the trees when he finally finished his task. The fruits of his labor lay in a heap around the dumpster, coils of wire everywhere, pieces of scrap metal and cases cast among the remains. His room now remained as bare as his heart. A mind, which was once in turmoil, was now at peace; he had done his part, now there was no way to be bothered again. His father was laying somewhere in the middle of the corridor, breaking the eerie silence with his snoring, work now long forgotten. Most likely he had gotten fired – for more reasons that being late.

Suddenly, a van pulled beside the sidewalk just across the street. For some reason, he found himself smirking. Two women got out, one dressed in a long skirt and vest, the other in a men's suit. Superficially, they didn't seem foreboding at all, though it was all clear now. The pieces were coming into place as they both rounded the vehicle to meet at its far side, obscured from his window-view. There was a muffled sound of doors sliding open and shut, things behind moved around, being readied.

The boy finally slid off the sill, choosing to settle in the very middle of the floor. Despite his father's raucous snoring, he managed to become rather sleepy, feeling a slight déjà vu to it. Subconsciously, Sora knew he was safe from those people now, regardless of his father. His father had no existence there, nor did Sora, now. This would be the only place where he was no threatened.

A few minutes had passed, and his father's snoring had stopped. Now he knew all of this to be true, because the violent struggle downstairs was difficult to ignore.

* * *

_It's nine AM, and I know that part of this story may be confusing, but you sort of have to think about it. Things have been left unsaid… for the most part, they're probably easy to bring to light. If not, maybe I've done my job well. ;) Read and review!_


End file.
